


First Day of Forever

by Luka



Series: University AU [3]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Claudia Brown starts to hatch a plot to deal with the troublemaking Helen Cutter.





	First Day of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago and far away, Rain_sleet_snow created a university AU in Primeval fanfic where Lester is deputy vice-chancellor, Ryan the head of security, Lorraine an economics lecturer and Sarah an Egyptology PhD candidate. I jumped into her sandpit, and a load of stories followed. Our stories are in the same universe, but we've kind of developed our own plot (in that there is much plot) lines! This fic is the third I created in the AU universe - there are more stories to follow. If you want to read Rain_sleet_snow's stories, she has them on her AO3 account under the Smart People series tag. To avoid confusion, I'm going to name my series as University AU. Original, or what!

Claudia Brown was having an exceedingly bad day. Not only did some idiot think it was a good idea to offer a hairdressing degree, but a committee of quality assurance halfwits had also handed the university a loaded gun.

She looked with distaste at the man sprawled in the seat in front. Why did the male sex feel the need to sit with their thighs wide open? It wasn't an edifying sight at the best of times, and Dean Kory K wasn't the best of times by a long chalk.

Claudia knew for a fact that his real name was Kevin Clutterbuck, but that hadn't been deemed a trendy name for a performance artist when he'd made a name for himself – albeit in limited circles – with a controversial Edinburgh Festival show where he'd stripped naked, stuck a broom up his arse and performed a monologue memorable only for its scatological content. He'd been brought into the art college as a visiting lecturer to pep things up and had promptly stayed. So when CMU annexed all the colleges in the area, they were stuck with him. And somehow he'd become dean of Arts, Media and Design.

Claudia massaged her temples and rued the day she'd taken the job as head of quality assurance. Lorraine Wickes, her best friend from university, had assured her she'd like the place. She did, on the whole. Apart from when she was confronted with 40-something deans who dressed like they were 18 and had annoying chin beards that she longed to reach out and yank hard.

"So tell me again why you think a degree in hairdressing would be appropriate in a university. There's a good reason the courses are usually found in further education colleges – they lack academic rigor."

"That, if I may say, sweetheart, is a very traditionalist and short-sighted view. We'd be working with some of the greatest hair sculptors of our time."

A vision of someone with a chisel chipping away at Christine Johnson's hair flashed across Claudia's mind. The university registrar was a ghastly woman with fashion sense and a haircut that even the Princess Royal would turn her nose up at.

"Kory, I'm not your sweetheart. And how can blasted hairdressers be sculptors?"

Kory's famous attention span of a gnat kicked in. "You need to meet Joe Wilder. Great guy, and one of the true hairdressing legends. I've assured him there's a place here for him. Let's do lunch." And then he breezed out on a cloud of BO and stale cigarette smoke.

Claudia resisted the temptation to gently bang her head against her desk. Instead, she downed the lukewarm remnants of her cup of coffee and opened a file on her computer. She scanned it, then reached for the phone.

"Lorraine, it's Claudia. Are you teaching this morning? Excellent. We owe that little shit our thanks for him cancelling his tutorial with you, then. I'm in urgent need of lunch and I need all the filth and gossip you can give me on this saga with mad Professor Cutter and his blasted ex-wife. I know it's nothing to do with you! But do you really think I'm going to get anything remotely sensible out of Cutter and his gang? And I know they talk to you. OK, I'll see you in ten minutes. And I shall owe you a sticky bun for this!"

*~*~*~

A loud belch, followed by an obscure grunt, caused Sarah to sit up so abruptly that she almost gave herself whiplash. A fart completed the triumvirate and sent Sarah scuttling for the exit from the library stacks. Professor Gronow from History was always like that after he'd lunched well.

And that served to remind Sarah that she hadn't had lunch. Her stomach rumbled to back up that thought. Toast and marmite at breakfast, accompanied by Lorraine rolling her eyes at the combination, seemed an awfully long time ago.

Sarah joined the queue to have her bag checked, sending a high-wattage glare at the ghastly Caroline Steel, who was giving Lorraine cause for concern. But the girl was supremely unaware, canoodling as she was with one of the military nurses in the queue to take out books.

The creepy security guard stuck his hand into Sarah's bag and took rather too long for her liking pawing the cashmere cardigan that had been a Christmas present from Lorraine. Sarah decided she would take campus advice and place a sanitary towel on the top of her bag the next time – that was apparently guaranteed to stop Mr Sleaze from going any further. And in any case, she was hardly likely to be smuggling Egyptology books out of the building, given most of them were similar in size to a family bungalow.

Sarah glanced at her watch. Lorraine had tutorials all day, so there was no point texting her to see if she could bunk off for lunch. And she didn't fancy the main refectory and its lingering aroma of chips, so she made for the far side of the campus and the new coffee shop that was much beloved of PhD candidates and the research assistants.

The queue at the counter was mercifully short, so Sarah decided on a large cappuccino, a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich, and a slice of strawberry cheesecake. She beamed at Jason, the camp young man behind the counter, as he gave her two slices of cheesecake for the price of one on the grounds that they'd stuck together when he'd picked them up.

She took her tray and sidestepped two snooty archaeology bods as she made for the comfy sofa in the corner, skidding to a halt and knocking over a pile of student newspapers when she spotted it was already occupied. Then the person looked up and she realised it was Stephen Hart, mad Professor Cutter's research assistant and life partner. He looked even more remote than ever and she took a step back.

"Hi, Stephen."

"Sarah. Do you want to…?" He gestured vaguely at the space next to him.

She didn't really want to as she'd been intending to eat her lunch in peace and then read a couple of chapters of her guilty pleasure, the new Janet Evanovich crime novel. But it would be rude to say no, so she set the tray down on the table and sat down next to Stephen.

"OK, sweetheart?" She kissed him on the cheek.

He nodded, giving her a quick hug. That was as effusive as he ever got.

"Fibber."

Instead of arguing, he shrugged and looked away.

Sarah took hold of his hand in both of hers, tracing his long fingers. "Let me guess. Nick's ex-wife …"

He looked momentarily surprised, then nodded.

"Has she been back since the other day?"

He shook his head. 

Sarah sighed inwardly. She was very fond of him, but any conversation was like pulling teeth. Lorraine always claimed Sarah was the only person who could get Stephen talking. Sarah disputed this claim, reckoning that he only spoke occasionally to shut her up.

"So…?"

He shrugged.

"Stephen…"

"It's a crap atmosphere at home and work now. And Nick had a row with the dean today."

"And…?"

"The dean claims we're stuck with her, but he knows he's fucked up. Nick's livid. And it makes me feel bad."

"Because you slept with her?"

Stephen nodded.

"It was a long time ago, she blackmailed you into doing it, and Nick's forgiven you, so what's the problem?"

"I… I don't know. I just feel like it's all my fault."

"Crap," said Sarah briskly. "If it's anyone's fault, it's Helen's. And anyway, wasn't the marriage over?"

He nodded. "Nick was away on an American exchange and she said he'd started divorce proceedings. But they weren't finalised or anything."

"Did you know him then?"

"No. I didn’t do my first degree or MSc here. I only came to CMU because Nick and Helen were the big names in the field. I got her as my supervisor."

"Have you talked to Nick about all of this?"

He shook his head.

"Wouldn't that help? Otherwise Helen will get what she no doubt wants, which is to cause strife between you. Does she know you and he are together?"

He flushed pink. "Yes. The row started when she began making snide comments about it explaining a lot about why we were so crap in bed with her."

"Bitch!"

He nodded. "I don't know what happened to her. When I came for the interview, she was really encouraging. And for the first year, it was all fine. Then she just went really weird. I mean, she'd always been tough and pushed you to produce the best work you could, but it was like she was a different person."

Sarah thought privately that Stephen needed to take his rose-tinted specs off, but merely patted the back of his hand, feeling rather like her gran who would have been heaping Middle Eastern curses on Helen's head by now. "Talk to Nick, Stephen. And don't let her come between you, or she's won."

"I know… Oh shit, I've got a seminar in 15 minutes!" He sprang to his feet, dropped a kiss on the top of Sarah's head and then loped off at speed.

*~*~*~

"So let me guess…" Lorraine ate the last mouthful of her soup and pushed the dish away. "Lester has got wind of what's happening over in earth sciences and has given you the dubious honour of stopping any nonsense in its tracks."

"Well, it is my job," observed Claudia mildly, frowning at the soggy baked potato which had been served with three baked beans and a miniscule portion of cheese. Two lettuce leaves, a slice of cucumber and half a tomato masqueraded unsuccessfully as a side salad.

"True. But shouldn't you have done something when the external examiner appointments appeared before the full committee?"

Claudia smiled. "Oh, absolutely. But I happened to be on holiday when the decision was made. And a quick comb through the minutes of the meeting suggests strongly that they weren't quorate."

Lorraine sat back and quirked an eyebrow. "That's interesting."

"Isn't it?"

"Cock-up theory or conspiracy theory?"

"Hard to say." Claudia was usually a firm believer in the former. But in this case the meeting had been chaired by Oliver Leek. And she knew he wanted her job.

"Oily Ollie?"

Claudia nodded.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Tell Lester what I've found."

"You reckon he'll risk the bad publicity that would come from ousting her? She'd be on the phone to Times Higher like a shot."

"If I know Lester, he'll have gathered the dirt on her. What do you know about her?"

"Me? Not a thing apart from what I witnessed the other day and what Nick and Stephen told us later."

Claudia pushed aside the virtually uneaten baked potato and took a swig of lukewarm tea. "We need advice on crisis management …"

Lorraine smiled suddenly, obviously realising what Claudia had in mind. "And we both know the PR guru to do it."

They chorused together: "This is a mission for Jenny Lewis …"


End file.
